


sunrise on a new horizon

by MangaFreak15



Series: SakuAtsu in love [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Sword Art Online (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BAMF Miya Atsumu, BAMF Sakusa Kiyoomi, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Now with a NSFW happy ending, Partnership, Porn with Feelings, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Stand Alone, Strangers to Lovers, Swords, Tender Sex, Top Sakusa Kiyoomi, lots of feels, they kick ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangaFreak15/pseuds/MangaFreak15
Summary: “What’s wrong?” he asks.The bleached blonde shivers, but doesn’t say anything. His fingers tighten their grip on his sleeve, making it impossible for Kiyoomi to go. “I don’t want ta forget,” he whispers.“Forget what?”Inari closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “I don’t want ta forget who I am.”On Nov. 7th, 2022, 10,000 players become trapped in the game 《Sword Art Online》. Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu happen to be two of them.For SakuAtsu Angst Week 2021 - day 6: fantasy AU + day 1: goodbye
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: SakuAtsu in love [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169279
Comments: 16
Kudos: 88
Collections: SakuAtsuAngstWeek





	1. Omi & Inari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy SakuAtsu angst week~
> 
> I'm glad I was able to finish this in time. I've really been feeling the angst lately, I guess

Kiyoomi curses the day he ever let Motoya talk him into buying his first ever VRMMORPG, 《Sword Art Online》.

_It'll be fun,_ he said.

Looking up at the massive robed figure monologuing in the crimson sky about how this is now a game of death and they are trapped here until they can clear all one hundred floors of Aincrad, Kiyoomi thinks that this is anything _but_ fun.

“I have given you all a gift. Take a look and see for yourself,” says Kayaba.

The item that Kiyoomi finds in his inventory is simply labeled _mirror._ He taps on it in confusion, and a compact hand mirror drops into his palm. When he scrutinizes his reflection, he only sees his avatar looking back at him. But then—

A flash of light so bright that Kiyoomi has to cover his eyes. Left and right, people are lit up, until the entire plaza shines like sunlight off of a gleaming mirror. And in a few seconds, it’s over.

Kiyoomi feels dread when he’s greeted by his pale face and unruly hair instead of golden skin and smooth silver locks. For fuck’s sake, give him a break! He’s literally been logged in for an hour at the most, and now he has to deal with this bullshit?

His only consolation is that Motoya isn’t with him, despite how much he is currently cursing his cousin’s name. At least Motoya won’t be subjected to this unholy farce.

Kiyoomi twitches when he remembers that he’s a newbie player, though. Like, brand new, never-played-a-video-game-in-his-life new. This was supposed to be his first foray into gaming. It was supposed to be a fun, relaxing, immersive experience, as Motoya had promised.

So much for that. If Kiyoomi dies here, he’ll apparently die for real. He doesn’t know how much he can risk when he literally knows _nothing_ about MMORPGs. Motoya had tried to explain it to him once, about FPS rates, raids, item drops, NPCs, quests, skill trees, and what have you, but Kiyoomi hadn’t paid much attention back then. Now, he wishes he had.

When Kayaba finishes his speech and vanishes into the ether, there is a moment of pure silence before all hell breaks loose. Kiyoomi cringes as people begin yelling and screaming and crying around him, a real-time tapestry of despair. He’s in his own form, and despite Motoya’s constant reassurances in the back of his head that his real body isn’t _actually_ here, this is virtual reality and it feels too real, right here, right now. And Sakusa Kiyoomi is nothing if not intensely fearful of germs.

He turns and runs into the town, desperate to escape the wailing mob. He runs and runs, past buildings shining bright and white and welcoming, past villagers who call out to him in faux concern. He runs like he can outrun all of his problems, but the shadow of death constantly hangs over him.

This is the Town of Beginnings, and they are all part of the beginning of this awful chapter of life.

* * *

In the first month alone, 2000 players die.

Kiyoomi is determined not to be one of them. He did stay near the town at first, merely observing other players as they went out into the fields in an attempt to slay the monsters and gain enough experience to level up. He saw what worked (and also what didn’t). But mostly, he watched out for the ones who seemed to know what they were doing, because those guys were the ones to learn from. He also consulted the guide book that he got for free, hungry for any information that would help him beat this shitty game.

He watched, he practiced, he learned, and most importantly, he _survived._ Sakusa Kiyoomi, or rather, Omi, as he is currently going by the stupid little nickname that Motoya had jokingly suggested for his handle, is not a name that shall be stricken off the list of the living.

And then the lair for the first floor boss is finally discovered.

Kiyoomi attends the public meeting more out of desperation than excitement. They have to clear all one hundred floors of the floating castle in order to leave the game for good. Kiyoomi doesn’t want to stay in this hellhole forever, so he’s going to do whatever it damn well takes to get the hell out of here. Even if it means partying with others, despite his decision to make it as a solo player.

The man holding the meeting is a charismatic figure who calls himself Diavel. In just a few sentences, he’s got the crowd eating right out of his hands.

When he calls for people to divide into squads of six though, that’s when Kiyoomi freezes up. He takes a cursory glance over the gathered people. To his dismay, almost everyone is already in their own little groups, while Kiyoomi is still by himself. Diavel had said that it was impossible to take the boss on alone, but what if—

“Hey.”

The unexpected voice jolts Kiyoomi from his thoughts. “Huh?” He turns his head to the right and finds someone sitting there, who hadn’t been there before. A man with an undercut and a mop of bleached blond strands on top. He’s clad in the same basic armor as everyone else, but his sword is slung at his hip rather than across his back like Kiyoomi’s is.

“Ya haven’t found anyone to party up with, right?” the guy says. “Wanna join me, then?”

“Oh. Sure.” Kiyoomi’s not going to say no at this point, as long as he has _someone_ to help him out and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.

“Great! I’ll send ya an invite.” The stranger opens his menu screen and taps a few buttons, then the party invite shows up in front of Kiyoomi. His finger hovers it for a couple seconds, then he hits ‘accept.’ A second health bar shows up underneath his.

The guy lets out a hum. “So yer name’s Omi? That’s cute,” he chuckles.

Kiyoomi flushes. “How did you know?”

His new partner flashes him a foxkill grin and taps somewhere over in his periphery. “Ya can see my health bar under yers, yeah? My name’s listed next ta it,” he explains.

Kiyoomi looks back at the floating HP gauges and indeed, in tiny letters to the left, their avatar names are written there. ‘Omi’ is obviously his, and underneath, the second one reads ‘Inari.’ “Inari, as in, the deity god of foxes?” he questions, raising one eyebrow slightly.

“That’s right! I was gonna use ‘Kitsune’, but someone already took it,” Inari grumbles, muttering something unfavorable about some guy named ‘Sunarin.’ “Anyways, it’s nice ta meetcha.”

“Likewise.”

Their attention is called back to Diavel when the guy claps his hands. “Alright, has everyone formed a party? Then it’s settled. We’ll be meeting up at ten in the morning tomorrow to go fight the boss. Make sure you’re all ready by then!” The players chorus affirmations back to the man and make to get up.

“Now hold on a second! I want to say something first!” a gravelly voice yells from above their heads. Another player with an atrociously spiky hairstyle that reminds Kiyoomi of the end of one of those iron spike ball weapons leaps over the wall, bounding down the rows of seats to land on the stone stage. He whips around with wild eyes and points at the confused audience as he shouts, “Some of you here need to apologize to the two thousand people who have already died! Yeah, I’m talking about the beta testers! This is all your fault!”

Kiyoomi feels a headache forming as the guy goes on some long-winded rant about how the beta-testers abandoned the newbies and left them completely in the lurch, and how they should give up all their money and items because they don’t deserve them. He sees an extremely angry expression overtake Inari’s face as the idiot rambles on and on, sees his thumb pressed against the hilt of his sword as if Inari is halfway to considering shutting the guy up for good.

Luckily, someone else interrupts first.

“Excuse me, may I speak?” A dark-skinned man stands up and makes his way to the stage, towering over the loudmouth. He pulls out a little brown book and proceeds to dismantle the other guy’s claims so thoroughly that Kiyoomi mentally applauds him. Inari relaxes back into his seat, dropping his hand from his sword.

“Good to see that not everyone’s a brainless idiot like that moron,” he says under his breath.

Kiyoomi agrees.

When the meeting finishes and everyone splits up to make preparations, Kiyoomi finds himself following Inari into town. “Hey, wanna get somethin’ ta eat?” Inari asks, slowing down to fall into step beside Kiyoomi. Funnily enough, Inari is actually a couple inches shorter than him.

Eating and drinking here is actually quite an odd experience for Kiyoomi. Logically he knows that he isn’t in his real body and doesn’t actually _need_ sustenance, but… the virtual world truly is as immersive as you can get. Kiyoomi gets hungry and thirsty just as he does in the real world, so he eats, and he drinks. The smell and taste and texture of the food all feel real, too. It’s very weird and Kiyoomi doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Inari inclines his head towards a tavern on the corner, warm light spilling out on to the darkening streets from the open doors, the rowdy sounds of laughter coming from inside as other players attempt to get their spirits up. “The sandwiches there are actually pretty good. Goes well with their beer, if ya ask me.”

Kiyoomi grimaces at the thought of dirty finger food and sticky surfaces and a bar full of potentially sweaty patrons. “No thanks.”

“Not a fan of loud places, are ya?” Inari says, almost sympathetically.

“I’m not a fan of loud _or_ dirty places.”

Inari laughs, a bright sound that momentarily makes Kiyoomi’s heart trip over itself. “We’ve got a real prince o’er here,” he teases, lightly patting Kiyoomi on the back. “Well, why don’tcha lead the way then? Ta the establishment o’ yer choice.”

His hand feels warm through the thin tunic that Kiyoomi’s wearing, and to his confusion, the casual touch doesn’t immediately make him want to sprint for the nearest bathroom to scrub his skin raw. He wonders if the game is starting to get to him.

They end up sitting side by side on a bench in the quieter part of town, eating plates of pork noodles in a companionable silence. “So I’m guessing that yer probably new ta MMORPGs?” Inari says around a mouthful of food. Kiyoomi inches away in disgust, eating small, neat bites in comparison.

“New to gaming in general,” he replies.

Inari stops eating and looks at him with wide eyes. “Wait… ya ain’t never played a video game before?!” he exclaims, barely keeping himself from spraying bits of food all over his companion.

“No,” Kiyoomi says crossly.

“Shit,” Inari breathes, slumping against the bench. “Oh man. Having _this_ as your first gaming experience must suck _balls._ I’m sorry.”

Kiyoomi shifts uncomfortably, biting down on a soft bit of pork. “What for? It’s not your fault the creator turned out to be a psychopath.”

“Still! When I get out of here, I’m gonna wring that fat jerk’s neck!” Inari declares loudly, shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth and chewing angrily.

Kiyoomi bites down a smile that threatens to come over his face. It’s nice to have someone get so riled up on his behalf. Maybe they’ll only be partnered up for this one mission, but afterwards… perhaps they could continue partying together? Kiyoomi likes to think of himself as more of a lone wolf, but having someone else watch his back definitely takes some of the weight off of his shoulders. He’ll ask Inari when the time comes.

If they live through the battle, that is.

* * *

As far as first floor bosses go, Kiyoomi has to say that this Illfang the Kobold Lord is actually pretty intimidating. Big, beefy, and monstrous, colored a garish rusty-red with pupil-less eyes, the way it roars at their faces is nothing short of terrifying. Kiyoomi almost takes a step back out of fear, but a hand on his elbow stops him.

“Don’t worry, Omi. Ya’ve got me guardin’ yer back,” Inari says with a small smile.

Kiyoomi takes a slow, controlled breath to calm down, and nods. That’s right, he’s not alone. He’s got Inari and the entire raiding party to rely on. He looks at the small, snarling Ruin Kobold Sentinels that fling themselves into the line of fire, and his hand tightens around the hilt of his longsword. He can do this.

Time passes in a haze of organized attacks, switching between offense and defense, slowly whittling down on the boss’ HP while fending off the vicious Sentinels. Inari kicks one of the Sentinels away, hollering, “Switch!” as he backsteps out of range of another’s swipe. Kiyoomi slides in right then, his sword glowing with his Snakebite skill and cleaving through both monsters at once.

“Nice kill, Omi!” Inari says as they regroup, backs to each other.

“Thanks.” Kiyoomi feels his self-confidence grow as he racks up more kills. He can do this.

A loud clang from the main raiding party’s direction has everyone turning to see that Illfang has thrown away its axe and buckler. Kiyoomi tenses when the hulking creature reaches for the sheathe behind its back, wondering what sort of attack it’ll pull out now.

“Stand back, I’ll handle this!” Diavel shouts, rushing past the startled party.

“Don’t do it! It’s not usin’ a talwar!” Inari yells, pivoting on his heel with a panicked look on his face. “Stop, Diavel!”

Kiyoomi wonders if his sword can reach it from this distance. He’s not strong, this is his first time participating in a raid, but there’s been one feature that’s stayed with Kiyoomi even in his avatar form. And that’s his abnormal flexibility. He doesn’t have one of those blade whips that he’s seen on TV shows, so his wrist will have to be enough.

Things happen in seemingly slow motion: just as Illfang brings its sword down to end Diavel’s life, Kiyoomi throws his own weapon at the boss’ head with all his might, praying that he’ll make it. The swing of his torso and the snap of his wrist, combined with the game’s automatic battle system, sends the sword singing through the air like a lightning bolt. It pierces a hole right in between the monster’s eyes, throwing off its aim just long enough for Diavel to dive out of the way of its attack.

“Go, Inari!” Kiyoomi hollers. Inari doesn’t have to be told twice as he and Diavel double-team the struggling boss. Emboldened by the shout, the other members of the raiding party charge forward with an exuberant cry, chipping away even further at Illfang’s HP.

Inari lands the finishing blow, cleaving the monster clean through the neck, dropping its HP down to zero. Illfang lets out a dying scream as it shatters into thousands of particles, defeated.

For a long, long moment, everyone is silent, staring at the spot where the boss used to stand. Then they break out into cheers of victory that echo heartily through the chamber, people running towards each other and hugging, others crying in joy that they can _finally_ leave the first floor of Aincrad. They did it!

Kiyoomi collapses on the floor, relieved. Thank god his gamble paid off.

A hand appears in his vision, and he follows it up to find Diavel leaning over him. “You saved my life. Thank you,” the blue-haired man says. “Can you stand?”

Kiyoomi doesn’t take his hand, but he does nod. “I’m alright.”

Inari approaches them with a huge grin on his face. “That was amazin’, Omi!” he exclaims, mimicking the javelin-throwing gesture. “I ain’t ne’er seen _anyone_ do that before! I didn’t even know that was possible! I mean, I knew there were Blade-Throwin’ skills, but wow!” He laughs loudly. “Are ya sure this is yer first time playin’ a video game?”

“It is?!” Diavel gasps, looking astonished. He chuckles along with Inari. “Wow, I never would’ve guessed. You threw that sword like a pro. That’s a pretty crazy thing for a newbie player to do, haha. You’ve definitely got my respect for that, Omi.”

Other players crowd around them, congratulating Kiyoomi on his beautiful throw. He squirms in place, unused to having so much attention on him. It’s uncomfortable and he sort of wants to go back to his previous obscurity.

“Hey, hey, back off, can’tcha see that yer scarin’ him?” Inari growls, shooing the other players away. “C’mon, Omi, let’s get out o’ here.”

Kiyoomi agrees, heaving himself back on to his feet.

He sees Inari and Diavel exchange a glance, and then a firm nod. “Omi, thanks to you, we were able to defeat the dungeon boss. We’d like for you to have the bonus kill item instead,” Diavel says. Inari pulls up his menu screen, gifting the Cloak of Midnight to him.

Kiyoomi stares at the item name. “Why are you giving it to me? You’re the one who finished it off,” he frowns.

“Well, I would’ve died without you, so I certainly don’t deserve it,” Diavel chuckles.

“And besides, ya gave us the perfect openin’!” Inari chimes in. “Just take it, alright? I ain’t gonna take no for an answer.”

“Well, if you insist,” Kiyoomi sighs, accepting the item. He taps on the item name and instantly, a sheer black coat settles itself over his frame. It fits well and doesn’t billow much, which is good because it won’t hinder his fighting. Inari hands him his sword and steps back, looking Kiyoomi up and down with an appreciative whistle.

“Yeah, it looks way better on ya than it ever woulda looked on me.” He nods sagely. Diavel agrees with him, his eyes twinkling.

Kiyoomi absolutely does not blush at the praise, thank you very much.

The raiding party marches forward through the double doors together, high on the thrill of victory. They emerge at the top of a cliff overlooking wide-reaching grasslands, a pleasant breeze and fresh air greeting them after their battle. The topography is certainly different from the first floor. Kiyoomi thinks he can actually see oxen in the distance, if he squints hard enough. There’s a set of winding stairs that lead down to ground level, which the players take to start exploring the new area.

Inari accompanies Kiyoomi a little ways away from the base of the stairs, his hands clasped behind his head. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” he says cheerfully. “Y’know, yer really good fer just startin’ out at bein’ a gamer. Ya should join a guild! They’d be glad ta have ya.”

“What would I join a guild for when my ideal partner is right here?” Kiyoomi asks, frowning.

Inari trips over nothing and almost faceplants into the grass. He sits up, sputtering and flailing, “Omi! Ya can’t just say that! Ya’ll gimme a heart attack!”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Kiyoomi replies, tilting his head to the side. “We work well together, so why not keep on partying together?”

“Because—okay, I don’t actually got a reason _why_ we shouldn’t, but ya sure ya wanna keep goin’ with just me?” Inari peers up at him soulfully. “There’s loads of other players out there that ya haven’t met, maybe ya’ll like ‘em more than—”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and walks on, leaving Inari to scramble to his feet. “Wha—hey, wait! Omi! I wasn’t done talkin’! Waaaaaait!”

And that is the story of how the most powerful sword-wielding duo of 《Sword Art Online》got their start.

* * *

Months pass by as people get used to life in the game. Floor boss after floor boss is cleared with vigor, each victory from the front lines renewing hope in the people. Whispers of certain fighters start circulating in towns, like the axe-wielder and merchant, Agil, the charismatic leader of the Fuurinkazan guild, Klein, or the head of the Knights of the Blood, Heathcliff.

But no rumors circulated more widely than the ones about the Golden Fox and the Masked Swordsman, a pair of Clearers who never joined any Guilds or partied with anyone else besides each other. The Golden Fox, Inari, is known for his strength in battle, his blade gleaming gold as he unleashes skill after skill at the enemy, mowing them down without remorse. He’s easily identified by his armor, fur-lined silver gauntlets, a burgundy haramaki, and fur-lined combat boots, his sword dangling from his left hip. At some point, he acquires the Dual-Wielding skill, adding to his strength as he swings two swords instead of just one. His partner is the mysterious Masked Swordsman, Omi, an extremely tall, fast, and flexible swordsman who wears an all-black ensemble and covers the lower half of his face with a poison-filtering mouth guard, yellow earloops hooked behind his ears. He is famous for throwing his sword like a divine javelin, slaying multiple beasts in a single straight shot, and any creatures that don’t die on impact are summarily finished off by the Golden Fox.

They are strong individually, but together? They are _unstoppable._

* * *

Sometimes, Inari gets into a mood. Kiyoomi usually leaves him alone when it happens, simply goes out and does some training or simple quests by himself. When he returns to their home base on the 49th floor, Inari will be back to his usual, annoying self, pestering Kiyoomi about where he went and why he didn’t take Inari with him. And they’ll continue on like nothing ever happened.

Today is one of those days, but…

When Kiyoomi moves to leave, Inari’s hand flashes out and grabs his sleeve. “Don’t leave,” Inari pleads, trembling. “Don’t leave me alone, Omi.”

Kiyoomi sits down beside him instead, leaning his sheathed sword against the wall. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

The bleached blonde shivers, but doesn’t say anything. His fingers tighten their grip on his sleeve, making it impossible for Kiyoomi to go. “I don’t want ta forget,” he whispers.

“Forget what?”

Inari closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “I don’t want ta forget who I am.”

Ah. Kiyoomi inhales slowly. Talking about real life, or the outside world has become a taboo subject for the players. Nobody wants to be reminded of what they’re missing, or who they’re missing. In the beginning, there were many players who tried to forcefully log themselves out by jumping to their deaths, but well, that obviously didn’t go so well. The PK players also tried to argue that there’s no guarantee that someone died in the real world if they died in the game, but they also couldn’t prove that people _didn’t_ die.

Not for the first time, Kiyoomi wonders who Inari left behind.

“Omi… ya won’t let me forget if I tell ya, will ya?” Inari murmurs, lifting his head up. “If I tell ya my real name.”

_No, I won’t forget._

“Tell me if you want to, but I’m still calling you Inari,” Kiyoomi says.

Inari laughs weakly, but the mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s okay, I just… I just want someone ta know.” He composes himself in the space between one breath and the next, sitting up straight and looking right at Kiyoomi as if he can see through his soul. “My name’s Atsumu. Miya Atsumu. I’m twenty-eight years old.”

_Miya Atsumu_ rolls across Kiyoomi’s tongue like the most tart of umeboshi, the knowledge as sour as his favorite treat. “Atsumu,” he tries, his lips forming awkwardly around the unfamiliar syllables. Inari lights up brighter than the Christmas decorations of the night market though, and that makes it worth learning. “Atsumu,” Kiyoomi repeats, bolder now.

“I thought ya were gonna keep callin’ me Inari,” the blonde teases.

“I will, outside. But if you want me to remind you of who you are, I can call you Atsumu when it’s just us, if you like—”

~~Inari~~ _Atsumu_ hugs him, cutting him off mid-sentence. “That’s more than enough for me. Thanks, Omi,” he sniffles. “Yer the best partner I could ever ask fer.”

Kiyoomi hesitates when he feels the rusty syllables of his own name pause just on the tip of his tongue. “You don’t… want me to tell you my name in return?” he asks, settling one hand on top of Atsumu’s head.

“Only if ya wanna tell me. Don’t wantcha ta feel like ‘m forcin’ ya or anythin’.”

Kiyoomi swallows the syllables down. “Maybe another time, then,” he allows. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“That’s okay, Omi. Ya don’t hafta tell me yer name,” Atsumu says, pulling away to scrub at his eyes. He smiles even through the tears. “I just wanted ya ta know mine.” The warm golden lights of their homebase spill over him, alighting on his tan skin and catching in his eyes, turning them from a muddy color to liquid sunshine. Even with the faint eyebags aging him by several years, the clear trails of tear tracks left glimmering on his cheeks, he’s still so beautiful and lovely and sad, but oh so happy at the same time.

_I love you,_ Kiyoomi thinks absently, then he realizes what kind of thought had just crossed his mind and wants to throw himself out of the nearest window. He can never say those three cursed words out loud here. There is no future for them in this game.

(But what about later?

He’ll have to cross that bridge when they get there.)

* * *

‘That bridge,’ as it turns out, ends up coming up about six months later, well into their second year living in SAO. Kiyoomi and Atsumu are returning home from exploring the labyrinth on the 74th floor when Kiyoomi picks up an unusual noise and stops Atsumu. The latter’s hand inches towards his sword, but Kiyoomi shakes his head. Whatever it is, it’s not very strong.

A quick Search later reveals that the creature that made the noise is a rare, S-class monster called the Ragout Rabbit. Atsumu immediately starts drooling, his hands twitching at the prospect of getting his hands on the meat from such an elusive monster. The rabbit tries to run away, but frankly, it’s no match for Kiyoomi’s One-Shot KO skill, and he makes quick work of it.

“Isn’t this worth like 100,000 Cor?” Kiyoomi says, holding the meat up.

Atsumu squawks, “Ya aren’t _sellin’_ that! We have more than enough money already!”

“What? But what else would we do with it?” Kiyoomi asks, mystified.

“Heh.” Atsumu puts a hand on his hip, jabbing a thumb into his own chest as he proudly declares, “I’m gonna cook it fer us!”

“…You can cook?”

Atsumu rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Uh yeah, I maxed out my Cookin’ skill actually. Sorry, didn’t mean ta keep it from ya. I just…” His face falls a bit and he starts looking a little sad. “I just… miss my brother. He always cooked better’n me.”

Kiyoomi decides not to step on that landmine. “Well, why don’t you show me what a Master-class Chef can do, then,” he says, stowing the meat away in his inventory. “All this time we spent eating out and it turns out that you knew how to cook all along.” He shakes his head.

“I-I was tryin’ ta surprise ya!” Atsumu exclaims indignantly, snapping out of his funk.

“Sure,” Kiyoomi agrees, laughing as Atsumu pouts at him.

They return to their homebase in Myujen. Kiyoomi sits back and polishes his sword while he watches Atsumu bustle around in their kitchen, mumbling to himself over this and that seasoning while the rabbit meat lays on a cutting board on the counter. It’s actually pretty nice watching Atsumu like this, in a completely different element off the battlefield. He’s even wearing an apron and everything, like a good little housewife—

No, bad Kiyoomi, bad! Don’t even _think_ about that!

But he can’t stop thinking about it. Atsumu looks so _good_ in that apron. He’s singing softly to himself as he stirs something in a pot, and he looks right at home like he belongs here, and Kiyoomi—

Kiyoomi isn’t even aware that he’s abandoned his sword until he stands up and wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist, startling his partner. “Omi? W-what’re ya doin’?” he stammers, turning red with embarrassment.

Atsumu is warm and smells like the spices he’s been using while cooking. Kiyoomi breathes him in, closing his eyes to memorize the shape of his body beneath his hands. “Atsumu,” he begins, noticing how the shorter man shudders at the sound of his name being whispered so close to his ear, “when this is over… will you marry me?”

Atsumu drops the pot of sauce, and only quick reflexes save it from splattering all over the floor.

The man himself is speechless, his eyes wide and shocked in his face. “Y-y-y-y-y-y—ya wanna marry _me?!”_ he squeaks, turning so red that for a moment Kiyoomi’s worried that he may actually explode.

“Who else would I mean?” Kiyoomi says, flicking Atsumu on the forehead.

“B-but—wait, does that mean ya like me?” Atsumu questions in wonderment.

Oh my god, _how_ did he fall in love with a man like this. Kiyoomi drops his face on to the curve of Atsumu’s broad shoulder with a very loud, put-out sigh. “No, Atsumu, I don’t like you,” he says. He tightens his grip around Atsumu’s waist when the blonde makes a hurt, confused sound and tries to step away from him. “I don’t like you; I _love_ you.”

Atsumu turns red all over again and makes a sound like a whistling tea kettle as he sags into Kiyoomi’s arms. “Omi, ya can’t just say somethin’ like that outta the blue!” he whines, smacking Kiyoomi on the arm.

“…Is that a no?”

Atsumu huffs. “Let me finish makin’ dinner an’ I’ll tell ya after,” he mutters. Kiyoomi reluctantly lets go of him and goes back to polishing his sword. He’s now more aware of Atsumu than ever, unable to keep his eyes off of his partner as he swiftly turns a bunch of raw ingredients into a mouth-watering feast fit for a king.

When everything’s done, Atsumu takes a step back to admire his work. “Take that, Samu, I can totally cook, too!” he yells, pumping one fist into the air.

“Even though the game was helping you?” Kiyoomi teases, taking his seat.

Atsumu jabs a finger at him. “You, shut up and eat!”

“Alright, alright,” the dark-haired man laughs. “Thanks for the food, Atsumu.”

The blonde turns pink. Kiyoomi takes the lid off the pot that the rabbit meat had been braised in and inhales the sweet, rich aroma that floats out. It smells wonderful. Kiyoomi is hit with a faint pang of wistfulness that this’ll be the first time he’s eating home-cooked food in nearly two years.

The first bite of meat is practically bursting with juiciness, leaving a sweet and salty imprint on his tongue. Kiyoomi is in pure bliss as he loses himself in the meal, unable to stop himself from eating. It’s just that good.

Atsumu watches him with a smile, taking a few bites of his own plate from time to time.

Afterwards, Kiyoomi helps Atsumu clean up. When the last dish has been rinsed and put on the drying rack, Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi, and Kiyoomi looks back at him steadily.

“Omi,” Atsumu says softly, cupping his cheek. Kiyoomi finds himself leaning into the touch unconsciously. Atsumu bumps their noses together, blowing little puffs of warm air against Kiyoomi’s lips. “Will ya tell me yer name now?”

Kiyoomi blinks slowly. His name? Oh, his _name_ name, not the one he’s been going by all this time. “It’s Kiyoomi,” he exhales, delighting in the way that Atsumu lights up. “Sakusa Kiyoomi. I turned twenty-eight in March.”

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu says his name like it’s a prayer, full of reverence. He chuckles, “Yer younger than me, huh?” Then he leans in all the way and finally kisses him like he’s been wanting to do for months, his mouth soft and warm and pliant against Kiyoomi’s. Kiyoomi clutches on to him tightly, snaking one hand around the back of Atsumu’s head to pull him closer. Atsumu whimpers when Kiyoomi bites on his bottom lip, opening his mouth just enough for Kiyoomi’s tongue to slip in.

They kiss until they can’t anymore, pulling apart to breathe. Kiyoomi likes how flushed Atsumu’s face is, how dazed he looks after one kiss. “So, what’s your answer?” he asks.

Atsumu’s eyelashes flutter as he tries to grasp the scope of Kiyoomi’s question. “Huh?”

“When this is over, will you marry me?” Kiyoomi repeats.

“Yeah, of course I will,” Atsumu replies, still a little out of it. He jumps up and wraps his thick thighs around Kiyoomi’s hips, holding on to his partner like a giant koala bear. Kiyoomi strains a bit under his weight, but it’s more than bearable once Atsumu whispers slyly into his ear, “Now, are ya gonna take me ta bed or not?”

Kiyoomi has never moved so fast in his life; it’s almost like he teleports straight into his room with how eager he is. Atsumu laughs at him as he all but throws the other man on to the bed, and kicks the door shut behind them. Then they’re on to each other again, and they go rolling through the sheets in a frenzy.

They definitely don’t get much sleep that night.

* * *

When the call for the Clearers to gather to fight the boss of the 75th floor comes, Kiyoomi and Atsumu walk out of the teleport gate hand in hand. Several guilds are already there, heads turning at their appearance. Whispers begin to explode, some in disgust, some cheering. The Golden Fox and the Masked Swordsman have returned to the frontlines as an item.

“Finally!”

The pair stops walking when three people block their path forward. One is big and muscular, another has a wolfish grin on his face, and the last is giving them a thumbs up.

“Agil! Klein! Diavel! So ya guys are comin’ with us, too?” Atsumu says.

“You bet! We aren’t going to let you guys leave us behind,” Klein chortles, hefting his sword over his shoulder. He leans in closer, putting one hand by his mouth as he adds, “So when did you two get together?”

“Hmm… a month ago? Or was it earlier than that?” Atsumu asks, looking up at Kiyoomi.

"A month and a half ago," Kiyoomi confirms.

Klein rears back, smacking one hand into his face, "Damn it! I was so close!"

Diavel sighs mournfully, turning towards Agil, who is wearing the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. "Haha, pay up, chumps!" he crows, holding a hand out.

"Wait, didja bet on how long it would take fer us to get together?!" Atsumu squawks.

"And I won!" Agil says cheerfully, now 10,000 Cor richer.

“Unbelievable,” Kiyoomi deadpans.

“Hey, gotta make money where I can!”

The teleport gate lights up again, but this time the Knights of the Blood step out, Heathcliff leading them with a serious face. Everyone sobers up, stepping forward as Heathcliff holds a crystal up to the arch that will lead them to the floor boss. It’s time.

The 75th floor boss is a nightmare of epic proportions. Even Heathcliff, Atsumu, and Kiyoomi _combined_ are barely able to fend off the deadly scythes that it attacks with. The Skull Reaper is a fearsome opponent indeed.

Kiyoomi loses count of who’s where and who’s doing what and who’s dead, all of his focus maintained on keeping himself and Atsumu alive. Heathcliff takes the brunt of the attacks with his enormous shield, and Kiyoomi and Atsumu swoop in to keep the scythes from striking at anyone else in the raiding party. Everyone else furiously swings at the Reaper’s sides and its many, many legs.

_Go down already!_ Kiyoomi yells mentally, unleashing a strike that cuts through the Reaper’s head. It retaliates by slashing at him with both of its bladed arms. Kiyoomi barely gets his sword up in time to deflect one, while Atsumu blows the other one away with his Reflection skill. Then Heathcliff charges in and blocks its next wave of consecutive attacks, allowing them to fall back and pelt the boss with long-ranged attacks.

This fight is the longest and absolute _hardest_ battle to date, but in the end, even the Reaper falls. It shatters into a million particles as its last health bar finally drops all the way down to zero. There are no victory cheers this time; the price was too high.

All of the remaining party members collapse, panting. Kiyoomi and Atsumu sit back to back near their three friends. Everyone is feeling utterly wiped after that shitshow of a boss fight.

“How many did we lose?” Klein whispers.

“Thirteen,” Diavel replies, closing his eyes. “Thirteen of our own died today.”

They exchange grim looks. “Can we really do this?” Agil sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “We’ve still got another twenty-five floors to go. Are we actually going to be able to beat this game?”

“Instead of lookin’ at it that way, why not think ‘there’s _only_ twenty-five floors left’?” Atsumu says, trying to be the optimistic one for once. “We’ve all come too far to give up now. Ain’t that the truth?”

Klein lets out a self-deprecating chuckle, “Yeah, you’re right, Inari. Man, can’t believe I let myself get so down that I needed _you_ to cheer me up.”

“Wha—what’s that supposed t’mean?!”

Diavel and Agil, as well as a couple of other players who had overheard them, start laughing weakly. Kiyoomi slips his hand over Atsumu’s, intertwining their fingers and squeezing, making sure that they’re both still here. Atsumu squeezes back.

Kiyoomi’s eyes fall upon the lone figure in the room who remains standing. Heathcliff doesn’t even look winded. His health bar is still green, unlike… everyone else’s…

But didn’t Heathcliff tank the majority of those vicious slash attacks? Even for someone like Heathcliff, the fact that his HP is still in the green without the use of any healing items, should not be possible. Kiyoomi recalls every moment he heard the rumors about how Heathcliff’s HP has _never_ fallen into the orange, and his deep-rooted suspicions only grow further from there.

“Inari,” he murmurs, quietly enough not to attract attention. Atsumu instantly turns towards him, his smile dropping at the look on Kiyoomi’s face.

“What’s up?”

Kiyoomi stands up, pulling Atsumu up with him. “Excuse us for a moment,” he says, walking away from the main group. He briefly unhooks his mask and gives Atsumu a kiss on the cheek to make their friends believe that he wants some ‘alone time’ with his partner. Atsumu goes along with it, leaning into Kiyoomi slightly.

When they’re a good distance away, Kiyoomi does actually give Atsumu a real kiss. No more than a quick peck on the lips, really, but worth it for the way that it makes Atsumu perk up. He leans over to whisper into his partner’s ear, “Don’t you think Heathcliff is a little suspicious?”

Atsumu turns so that they aren’t facing towards the crowd, so no one can read their lips or facial expressions. “Ya think so, too? The guy’s good, but… maybe a little _too_ good.”

“On top of that, the fact that his HP gauge is the only one that’s completely in the green without the use of any items…” Kiyoomi trails off. “Even with that shield of his, the Skull Reaper was quite vicious. That shouldn’t be possible.”

Atsumu’s eyes narrow. Kiyoomi can almost see the gears whirring in his head, and the exact moment that he has an epiphany. “Hey, so _hypothetically,_ where d’ya think Kayaba is watchin’ us from?” Atsumu says, his eyes sliding in Heathcliff’s direction.

Kiyoomi feels his blood freeze. “No,” he breathes, his eyes wide. “You mean—?”

“It ain’t an official rule, but when yer a gamer, there’s nothin’ fun ‘bout watchin’ somebody else play a game. So trust me when I say it ain’t impossible for him to create his own avatar an’ pretend ta be one o’ us.” Atsumu’s eyes are hard and cold. Unforgiving. “And since he’s the system admin, he can do anythin’ he wants, even makin’ himself immortal.”

“And that’s why his health bar has never fallen into the orange range,” Kiyoomi mutters. It all makes sense.

Atsumu nods. “We can expose him right here an’ now, if ya want. We’ll force him ta end this charade and return everyone back ta the real world. An’ then we’ll get married like ya wanted.”

Kiyoomi smiles, stroking a thumb over Atsumu’s soft lips. “We won’t be able to get married in Japan, you know.”

“So we’ll go ta California or somethin’. Dunno ‘bout ya, but I think I’ve had enough o’ video games fer a while.” Atsumu grins cheekily.

“I’m not getting married on a beach.” Despite his words, Kiyoomi can’t help but imagine Atsumu barefoot and bare-chested under the golden glow of sunset, walking along the waves with him, hand-in-hand. He wants it so badly that this chest physically aches with the desire to turn it into reality.

“Aw, why not?” Atsumu whines.

“Too much sand.”

Atsumu laughs, shoving playfully at his shoulder. “Party pooper. Ya just don’t wanna clean up afterwards.”

“Can you blame me?” Kiyoomi quips.

“Nah, ya’ve got a point.” Atsumu leans forward to rest his forehead against Kiyoomi’s. He breathes in slowly. “So, should we do this together?”

Kiyoomi matches him, taking both of Atsumu’s hands in his. “Together,” he echoes with finality.

As one, they turn around.

“Make it count, Omi,” Atsumu says.

He does. Kiyoomi’s One-Shot KO strikes true, the tip of the blade heading straight for Heathcliff’s throat. And, as Atsumu had predicted, the sword’s momentum is halted unnaturally. Heathcliff jerks back even though Kiyoomi’s sword hits a purple barrier in front of him, the ‘Immortal Object’ status appearing above his head.

“Omi?! What’re you doing—” Klein begins in alarm, but upon beholding the words above Heathcliff’s head, he stops dead in his tracks. Everyone else looks just as shocked as he does.

Atsumu strides forward to retrieve Kiyoomi’s sword where it has fallen to the floor. “Looks like my hunch was right,” he says smugly. “It ain’t fun if ya don’t get ta play with yer own creation, right? Kayaba Akihiko.”

The room’s occupants gasp in unison. “Kayaba Aki—the creator?!” Diavel yells in disbelief, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

Heathcliff smiles. It’s not a nice smile. “Aren’t you a sharp one? Tell me, how did you figure it out?” he asks.

Atsumu bares his teeth in his own facsimile of a smile. “Nobody’s _that_ good without usin’ some sort o’ cheat code.”

“Fair enough,” Heathcliff says airily. He looks around at all of the gathered players. “Indeed, I am Kayaba Akihiko, the one who created this game. It’s a shame that you found out so early, though. I would’ve been the final boss you had to fight on the hundredth floor.”

The players’ dismayed cries echo through the chamber. One of the Knights of the Blood even tries to attack him, feeling utterly betrayed by a man he’d looked up to and admired. He winds up on the floor, paralyzed.

One by one, the players fall, until only Kiyoomi and Atsumu remain standing in front of Heathcliff. The man smirks, pointing his blade at the duo. “I’ve always wanted to cross blades with the two of you. How about it? Defeat me, and you’ll clear the game and free all of the remaining players. If you fail, you die. It’s a good deal, isn’t it?”

_Bastard,_ Kiyoomi seethes.

“We’re going to win,” Atsumu declares, readying his twin blades.

“We’ll see,” Heathcliff says. He deactivates his Immortal Object status and prepares himself.

Atsumu rushes him, pulling off a no-holds-barred, full-frontal assault combination right off the bat. Kiyoomi darts around them, stepping in and out of range when he detects a chink in Heathcliff’s defense. The man fends them off fairly easily, despite Kiyoomi getting several good hits in. They circle around each other. Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu’s getting frustrated since Heathcliff obviously knows how to counter every single pre-programmed combination in the game. He’ll have to find some way of using his own strength to take him down. Again, they tag-team him, but Kiyoomi isn’t able to use One-Shot KO because it’s also a pre-programmed attack. He adjusts the best he can.

“Excellent, you’ve got such amazing teamwork,” Heathcliff praises. Kiyoomi’s insides curl in disgust at the thought of getting a compliment from someone who’s killed thousands of people for no reason other than his own amusement. Heathcliff raises his shield. “But I can tell which one of you is better.”

He blocks Atsumu with his shield and pulls up a menu screen with his sword hand. Kiyoomi gasps when all of his limbs lock up and his sword falls out of his hand. He lands on the floor with a grunt.

“Omi!” Atsumu stops fighting and immediately runs over to him.

“He got me,” Kiyoomi hisses through gritted teeth. “I’m paralyzed.” He strains, but it’s no good. He can’t move. “Inari, you’ll have to finish him by yourself. Can you do it?”

“Who d'ya think yer talkin’ to, idiot?” Atsumu says, cradling Kiyoomi’s head gently.

“I believe in you. Now take him down.”

Atsumu nods, determined. “I’ll make sure we can all go home.” He kisses the two moles on top of Kiyoomi’s eyebrow. “I love ya, Omi.”

“Love you, too,” Kiyoomi breathes back.

The sight of Atsumu’s broad back fills him with relief, but also trepidation. They’re so used to fighting together, but now, Atsumu is facing off against Heathcliff one-on-one and there’s no one to guard his back. Kiyoomi’s laying here like a useless lump of flesh while the love of his life is fighting for their lives.

_Move!_ he thinks desperately, his heart stuttering every time Heathcliff’s sword makes it through Atsumu’s guard and slices into him. _Move, stupid body! Don’t just lay there! Stand up and fight!_

He believes in Atsumu, sure, but he would still rather fight by his side. If he has to watch Atsumu die in front him… Kiyoomi isn’t sure what he would do.

Kill Heathcliff, certainly.

Kill himself afterwards, maybe.

He just needs to _move._

Then, Atsumu makes a fatal mistake, just as Kiyoomi had feared. The tip of his sword breaks upon impact with Heathcliff's shield, leaving him vulnerable.

**_MOVE!_ **

“Farewell, Inari,” Heathcliff says nonchalantly, as if he’s not about to snuff out yet another life. Atsumu tries to bring his other blade up to block Heathcliff’s incoming attack, but Kiyoomi knows it’s no use.

**_NO NO NO NO MOVE I WON’T LET YOU NO PLEASE NO MOVE MOVE MOVE—_ **

The blade swings down, ready for an execution.

  
  
  


**Ṋ̴̣͙̺̩͔́̂̄͂̎̽̇̀͗̓̈́͝Ơ̸̢̦̖̳̹̠̮̞͙̱̰̲̓̂͑̈́̍̊͆͐́̔͜ͅO̷̧̲͔̖͙̬̣͖̖͓̹͋̂͋ͅǪ̶̧͉͐̆͜Ò̸̡͓̼̥͍Ö̸̳̻͍̣̲̭͓͍̘͚͓̟́̍̓̿̍̆͌̀̚͠͝ͅỢ̶̛̘͉̝͍͈̯͚̦̄̏̈́̓̾̒̎̋͛̕̚͜͝ͅ**

  
  
  


Kiyoomi doesn’t remember getting up. He doesn’t remember crossing the distance to the two fighters.

But he does remember pushing Atsumu out of the way and taking the hit from Heathcliff’s sword himself, a red mark slashing him open from shoulder to hip. He remembers thinking that it didn’t hurt, even as he watches his own HP gauge fall to zero, even as he realizes, _ah, I’m going to die._

Atsumu catches him as he falls back, his eyes wide and shocked. “Omi…? Why did ya do that…?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi mumbles. “Couldn’t let you die.”

Atsumu starts shaking, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. “No, no, no, Omi, please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone,” he sobs, crushing Kiyoomi’s fading body to his chest. “Please don’t die, _please,_ Kiyoomi—”

They both know he's only trying to prolong the inevitable.

With the last of his fading strength, Kiyoomi touches his fingers to Atsumu’s cheek. “Bye, Atsumu,” he whispers, smiling. “I love you.” He closes his eyes.

And then Kiyoomi shatters into pieces.

The last thing he hears before the darkness takes him away is Atsumu’s anguished screaming.

**g̸̰̳̳̑̿̒̅̌͌̌î̴̻̖̣̘͚v̷̘͓̜̻͉̪̗̯̎̐͆̒̒̚̕̕e̷̡̠̩̓̾͂̆͘ ̸̡̯͚̥͍̟̖͍͑͗̋͆͂̎́̕͝ͅh̴̩͈̫̜̮̩̘̒̽̽̔̒̑̊̈́̀ỉ̶̺͎̰͙̘̯͖͝m̵̨̛̭̒̎͂͒͐̈́̂̎ ̸̨̙̎b̸̡̨̺̜̬̪̥̀͋̓̐̉̇̆͌̚ȁ̸͕͎̞͉̖̉̊́̆̇̚͠͝c̵̹̞̤͓̈̓͌̾͋̎̽̿ḳ̵̨̊̇̈́͂̏͒̍̃͝ ̸̢͓̘̳́̏̀̋̑̈́̚̕̕g̶͓̯̱͇̐͊̅͋̎͗̿̕͝i̸̧̡̢͇͎̯̐v̸̝̫̪̙͒̀́e̵͚̺̝̺͊̋͂ ̷̛͚͙̳̭̳̠͗̃́̀̀͋͋͠h̸͕̼͚̣̣̍̈́i̴̡̨̛̲̘͌͛̑̿̆̃͝m̵̩͎̞̦̑̀̋ ̴̡͓̼̜̙̱̹̾́̈́b̵͕̫̻͂̚͜ȧ̴̢͉̻̖̼̗͌̀̕ć̶͓͎͓̣͓̭͖͋͛͜ͅk̵̡̳̙͈͉̥͓̬̿̃̈́͛́̽͒͂͘ ̴̡̟̜͇̐̇g̴̝̰͔̘̿̕ͅì̴̞̠̯̳̯̂̓̓ͅv̷̞̹̗̞̽̋̈̈̀͋̅̀̈́e̷̝̼̦͔͉͌͜ ̵̧̗̖̦̞̣͉̉̄̆͆̓̌̐̾͝h̴͍̙̦̗̞͆͗̏̚̕ǐ̴̘̎̈̏̎͜m̷͓̊͗̈́̍̈́͜ ̶̬̫̗̉̆͛̑̀̍̐͐͂b̵͓̙̥͔̳̙̦͑͂̎ä̵̯̭̮́c̶̞̗̝̗̭͖͉͑̐̔̚͠ͅk̸͇̗̬̲̗̟̟͍̈́̃̈́̑̒̅**  
**̶̧͓̜͚́͛̔͠G̶̯̯̈́͘Ḯ̷̫̇͝͠V̴͉̣͓̾̂͂̀E̶͍͖̘̺̊̓͊̈̿ ̷̳̩͚̝͛̄̕H̶̗̦̩̽͆͛͌͒͝Į̴͈͍̽̏̓̈́̆͘͠M̸͉͔̠̭̥̩̜̤̓̽͑̀͌͒͂͘ ̶̨̨̹̜̰̼̰̣͓̒̿̒̈́̎͊̆̿̕B̷̢̛̬̝̗̫̋̀͘Â̶̼C̸̭̞͍̯̒̏K̶̞̭̦̯̻͖̺̯̇ ̷̰̼̙̎͜Ģ̸̧͚͍̳̖̭̜͗͋̆͘Į̵̻̖̲̼̆V̷̱̞̭̱͙̗̒́̈́̑E̶̜̍͂̋́͛̚̚͝ ̴̠̑H̶̤͙͇̓͛̒͊̀Ị̴̧͖͚̹̙͍̥͒͒M̴̠̠̅̀͒̈ ̸̙͕̦̿̃̅̿̚B̴̢͙͎͇̾̍̏͑ͅẢ̶͕̳̦̾̈́C̸̭̫͍̱̥̺̀̄̑̒͂͝͝K̸̲͋́̒̆ ̵̤̫̻͆̀̅͌̎̓́͘̕G̵̢̯̯̩̘̤͙̉̾I̷̼̥̫̻̜͖͌͠V̴̛̼̙̗̞̠̮͉͛͒̓͛̌̀́͜E̸̡̡̮̖̙̼̖̳͐̂̓͝͠ ̷̧̹̼̽͐̃̇H̵̡̛̻̩̳͐͌̐̇̅͒̓̎I̵̻̭͐̚M̷̛̘̗ ̴̢̡͈̗̺̬͕̰̍́̔B̵͈̳͙͚͓̫͉̘̊̉̄͜A̶̢̜̎̑̽̈́̐̽̐C̴͈̞̯͎͕͇̝͒̾̈́ͅK̵̗̭̦̹̮̺̱͖̥̅͐̇**  
**̵̡̗͓̤̿͊̌̿d̶̙̤̱̱̙̫̹̲̀̃̓̇̚ơ̴̙̼̪̮̺͎̘̜̋͋̾͐̏͐̚̕ṇ̵͕̼͕̘̻̏͐'̸̗̩͙͐̓̀̈́t̸̨̼̟͖͙̞̀͌̌̉̀̑̎̕ ̸͉͂̒̑̈́͐͆̈́l̶̨̢͓͕̮̬̤̞̍̎̀̃ę̷̟̹͉̣̦̙͍̘̽́ȧ̸̳̟̩̰͎̜̫̬͉͑̌͌̾̈́̎͑v̸̧̯̞͓̺͍̆͑̋̓͐̚͝e̶̢͈̟͎̤̦̗͓͉̋̐̿́͂̉̏̀ ̶͉̹̀̌̊̓̀m̵͔̠̼̀e̶͚͈͇̩͌̽̆̽̓͐́͝ ̴̢̜̣̹̭̲̹͑̽̎̽̈́̕̚d̶̥͖̲͖͚͔͈̑͒͛́̂́͆ȏ̸̧̞̻̲̹̟̞̱̭̒̏n̸̨̯͋̔͊'̷̧̺̮̘͚̗̅͐͒t̷̰̤̳̦̐̑̃͆͐ ̷̡̧̭̦̏̿͐̆͌l̷͇̠͕̱̪͙̥͖̖͌e̸͕͖̟̮̱̜͋͛̓͝a̷͙̘̟͋͌̑̎͋͌̀̕͝v̶̼̫͓̤͐̒͋̀̽͌̈́͗̔e̵̢̱͇͌͒͑͝ ̵̧̼̦͉̿̆̎͝m̸̱̟̯͕̄͘ȇ̵̬̃̿̇ ̶̛̰̮̬̃́̑̐͊ḑ̴̛͚̥̣͈̫̅o̵̗͙̟̅͂̓n̷̙̂͗̈̕͠'̴͎̍̊̏͂̈́̅͊̾t̴̡̼͎͖͔̲̤̘̺̄̈́̆̓̓̒͘ ̷̐̄̋͆̆͜l̴͈̫͚͚̪̀̅̐ͅe̸̙̦͔̬̲͕͍̦̹̅̈́̚͘ä̵̰́̈́̃͊̾̀v̷̨͉͔̹̜̩͈̩͒̿͒͌́̍̚͜e̸̢̡͍̖̘̞̣̰͆̓͛ ̸̨̨̞̱̻͐̿̊̏͗͠m̵͉͚̠̊̂̒́̍͗̀͝ͅe̸̯̞͈͖̙̫͊̌͌̓́**  
**̴̛̠̯̖̞̰̈́̑̌̾̽Ḑ̸͇̯͇͖̻̈̄̾̆̀̀̒͝ ̶̛͖̹͈̮̼́̽̍́͗͛͝O̵̗̖͌̒ ̴̜̺̘̤̪̙́̆ͅN̴̞̦̞̦̾̽̉̑̈́̅́͝ͅ ̵̧̧͎̔̈́̉T̶̗̼̯̓̈́̀͛̅̆̽́͝ͅ ̷͔̣͖̳̪͓̏̀͊̑̈͜͝L̷̢̟̹͍͖̤̘̖̀̔̈́̒ ̶̧̮̗̰̿̍̀̉̈́̂̀Ë̶͖̯̠̪̬͓̋̎̋̅͝ ̸̖̹̱̣̪̙́̏͋̀͜Ä̵̠̜́̓̕͘͜͝͝ ̷̡͙̣̬̮͒̀̏͆͠͝Ṿ̴͓͎̭̫̘̌̂̋̃̐͜ͅ ̸̖̙͇̦̹͍͋̐̕E̴̡̢͉̰̘͕̝͔̐̓́̂̎͛̔̎͠ ̶̟͉͙̙́͆̑̀͒̈́͘͠M̸̧̟̗̳͙͓̲̖͊͌ ̶̼̪̟̼̺͈̮͝ͅE̴̻̙̽̒͑͊̈́̓͋ ̶͉̏͊Á̵̢̟̖͙͈̙̐̍ ̸̠̻̹̯͈̈́͌̀̊̀̏͜L̵͇͙̲̩̃̋͝ ̵̮̬̾͋̓̈́̐̃̅ͅO̵̻̱̗̼̬̟̞̩̩̎͌̉̀ ̸̧̗̙̮̬̣͚͈̥͛̃Ṇ̸̨̛̳̝̫̘̅́͒̋̚͝ ̵̹̝̜̬̓̀̆͒̚͘E̶͙͗̄̽̓ ̵̼̺̱͋̉̓͊Ķ̸͍͕͈̻̘̤̣̄́ ̷̢̱͇̖͉̼͍͒I̴̳͛͂͋ ̵̱̗͙̬̉͋̾̕͜͝Y̴̧͓̤̖͔̾̌ ̴̣̱̺̝̿̽̐̕͘O̴̢̳̞̺̯͔̖̪͐̋͗͊̾͊͜ ̵̧͙͚͍̙̂̌͝Ọ̴̢̤̱̺͇͙̹̣̏̄̊͑̉̌͗͝ ̸̪̗̻̌M̵̓͜ͅ ̵͔̦̗̙̔Ī̶̧͓͔͉̥̞̫͒̌́̀ͅ**  
**̴̫̘͖̄̔͘P̸̧͕̙̖̹̤̣͛̈́̈͘̚ͅĻ̸̟̜̤̈́͗́́̅͋͆E̸̛͇̜͑̈́̉̎A̶̧̲̥̮̣̓͊͘̕S̷̡̡͓͓̙͎̄Ȩ̵̦̘̬̗̩̞̰͌P̷̜̌̇͛Ḷ̴̛̫̽̈̈́̉͑̆͘̕ͅȨ̸̞͈̱͚̉͌͆̃̄À̵̡̠͔͉̦͆̅̈́̋̈́͑̊͝S̵̡̛̮͍̀̏E̸̡̺̠͍̠̙̯̭͍̓́̈̑̒P̸̦̝̳̻͈̆̅̉̈́̾̾̌͘L̶̡̧͈̯̗̠͋͋̅͐͜Ȩ̸̩̖̈́͂̿̄͑͑A̸̡͈̠̭̳̞̙̞͛͂͂͆̊́̈́̈́͋S̶̤̻͉͚͖̻͚̼̏̐̑͒̉̓̾͘͠Ē̵͔̩̝̫̎͘**  
**̶̝̞̮͖̜̘̤̔̽̎͂̚I̴̹̪̳̲͉͗̓͒ ̷̛͈̇͆̽̌̃̒̏̌L̷̯͔̜̔͒̃Ó̵̻̳̟̥͊͛̽̀V̵̨̳͇͖̜̼̗̩͆̐̐͆͝Ę̷̨̰̠̼̮̲̜͋̽͒ͅ ̷̙̯̺̪̻̲̑̎̋̍Ỳ̷͕̣̈́͛̕Ó̸͈̿͝Ų̴̨̤͇̹͖̓̚ ̵̡͎̣̱͙̙̪̜̅Ļ̸͍̳̤͎̲̝̳̎̀̌̐̇̕Õ̸̘͈̑͒͐V̸̙͔̝͍̫̱͊̑́Ȅ̸͓͖̫̜̩̺̠̠͋͒̈͗̈́́͝ ̵̩̦̮́Y̴̞͌͊̅̅͆̃O̸̢̳͑͜Ű̷̢͈̘̰̱̠̩̉͝ ̷̻̺̰̖͋̇̈́̈͆Ḷ̵̨̱̣̳̮͓̜̅̈́̎̈́͠O̷͍͇̥̻̗͋̅͋̇͒͋͝͠V̷͖̠͍̼̘̪͓͎̟̆́E̷̛̩̙̯͉͈̣͑͗̅̑̐̃͌̚ ̷̛̞̼̻̹̮͆̿̎̄Y̶͕̯͕̞̝͉͂͆̿̊̆̐O̸̠͍̯͔͙̯͛̂̔͑̌̔̀͝Ư̸̗̲̽̒̓ͅ**  
**̶̛̲̗͈̝̪̩̗̅͗́͊͋͑͝͝G̶̨̢̮̜̩̅̾̒̃̀̂͆̐ͅ ̴̣̤͖͙͍̻̾̆͜I̴̬̻̜̗̟̝̦͐̾͂͐̄͌̓͑͝ ̶̰̼͔̠̳̲̙̲͛̐̒̚͝V̴̻̻̭͍̭͉̈̎̌̅̊̍̿́̈́ͅ ̴̺̹̼̟̓E̸̲̯̊͊̈́͂̆**  
**̶̣̰͑H̴̡͕̮͍̞͇̺̬̏̅̓ͅ ̷̻̮̀͂́̒̊͘̕͘I̵͈͌͗̃͛̈́̒͂ ̵̬͍̝̝̮͙͍̌̍͋͒́̾̂̾̎͜M̵̯̀̋͊̅̿ͅ**  
**̷͍̼͜͠B̴͖͓̰͉̈́͗ ̷̧͍͕̗͓́̀͆̄̉̀̈́̓͜ͅẢ̶͍̰͍̭̩̘̌͘̚ ̸͚͇̓̀̀͝C̷͚̠̙̰͕̞̝̯͚̍̔̊̋̂̃̇͒̆ ̶͍͔͊̌̒̚̚K̸̢̪̲̫͇̬̈́̈́̅̓͐́̆͠ͅ**  
**̴̫̦̠̞̔G̸̗̦̙̞̯̩̗͆I̴̢̘͚͔͎̪̎̽̒̂̎̈́͋͝V̵̬̮̰̠̽͜ͅË̵͎͖͕͚́̀̌̅̇͜H̵̲̠̔͊͠I̷̟̘̫̘̰̘̯̅̓͒̀͌͂M̶̨̥͇̰̙̤̘̪͐̎̅̈́̈́͆͊̚ͅB̵̧̭͉̗̭̒̌͊̒͜͝A̷̧̓̿̍̿͋͘͘Č̵̲̎̽̈̐͘͘͜K̷̢̛͕̟͎̗̠͂͑͑̾̓̅̕͜Ĝ̶̛̟̬̗̠͍̟̗̒͊̃̋͠͠Ĩ̵̭͕̹̭͈̮͈̜̓͝V̸̜͚̬̣͇͎̘̳̌͜E̸̫̻̫̼͇͊͒́̈́̓̅͗̾Ḩ̸̰̳͇̭͉̫̣̎͆̾̑̐̽͘̕͝I̶̱͙̚M̷̢̬͋̈́͆̆B̵̨̫͙̤͍͂̅̚͘͝Á̷̺̯͍͔̜͖̥̎͌̿̾̋͑C̸̰̓̿͐̕͝K̴̮̓́̾͛̇̈́̀̕G̸̛̗̻͈̮̪̼̰̜̈́͒̈́́͒̑I̶̢̡̨̧͎̗̫̤͓̓̈́̒́̽̚̚͝V̷͔̟̜͙̗̺̅͛͛̅̅̑̇͂̿Ȇ̵̡̘̼̫̱͔͙̟̾̇̚H̴̙̘̟͐́̋̏̉̈̕Í̴͚̘̫̝͛̀͜M̴͕̙̦̪̝̞̀̀̈̓̐͂̊̉͐B̵̨̛͎̘̦̂̿͌͆̅̽Ȁ̸̗̰̣̬̺͍̓C̶̨̩̈̆̓́͂́̅͋̌Ķ̵̰̠̩̙͉̯̾̃͗̉̒̈́̇**  
**̶̲̖͛̂̋̂͌̉̽̐ͅP̴̢̢̫̞̯͍̫̙̂̾͘͜ ̵̨̨̟̲̯̙̹̞͇̅͘L̷͙͍̜͌̂͛̄͒̎͗̈́͘ ̶̖̠́̒̒̋̋̇E̴̺̹̖̲̦̾͜ ̵̨̧͖̤͔͖͉͖̏̈̒̾͌͛̍͠Å̵̰̱̹͚͓̫͓̻̊͋͆̏̒̂̈̃ ̴̱̝̣͖̣̳̘͓̒̍̂̅̈́S̵̢͔͌́͝ ̶̡̡̮̠̩̩͎̎̽͂̅̍̆͝Ẽ̵̛̘̜̟́̌̀̅͐͝**

* * *

**《As of 14:55, Nov. 7, 2024, the game Sword Art Online has been cleared.》**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I actually had an alternate ending in mind when I wrote this. In fact, I actually wrote the ending first before I wrote the actual story, but then decided to take it out because the end was too happy for an angst fic. Unless y'all wanna see it anyway? It's a NSFW ending, soooo ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> **Edit: LMAO okay, they now have a happy ending thanks to everyone whose hearts were broken over this**
> 
> Please leave a comment before you go~


	2. Kiyoomi & Atsumu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate happy ending :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the original NSFW ending I had in mind lol, enjoy ya sinners ;)

Kiyoomi wakes up.

Well, to be more precise, he opens his eyes and finds himself floating in the gentle afternoon sky. The sun gleams off crumbling steel and stone as the floating castle of Aincrad slowly dissolves into liminal space. His memories are fuzzy, and he can’t quite recall what he was doing before this. There was someone… someone important…

_(A foxkill grin, sharp with the thrill of a hunt.)_

Who is it?

_(A hand, reaching out.)_

Who are you?

_(Lips like the softest rose petals, pink under the lights of home.)_

Kiyoomi can taste a name on the tip of his tongue. _Atsu—_

“Congratulations on clearing the game, Inari.”

A somber voice cuts through the silence. Kiyoomi turns, but the person is not speaking to him, rather to a lone figure sitting on the edge of the platform below him. The setting sun alights on the figure’s golden hair, bringing his face into sharp relief. He looks… sad? Maybe worse than that, he looks—not _dead,_ but as if he’s lost the will to live. Kiyoomi feels a strong urge to go to him and smooth over his brow.

“Give him back,” the figure says dully.

The other man, this one in a white scientist’s coat, pauses. “I don’t have the power to return what was lost,” he replies, tucking his hands into his pockets. “The things that have already happened cannot be undone.”

There’s no reaction from the figure, like he had expected that answer. “…Why didja do it?” his voice whispers.

“Why indeed,” the second man says wistfully. “I’ve long forgotten the reason.”

The golden figure looks down at the disappearing castle contemplatively. He tilts forward, leaning precariously over the edge and Kiyoomi wants to shout at him. Why? He doesn’t know. The second man sighs, “Whatever you’re thinking about, it won’t work. My system is already logging all the remaining players out as we speak, including you.”

“I don’t want ta go on without him.”

“But you will. And who knows? If you can break the laws of my own creation, maybe you’ll meet him again someday. I cannot say whether it will be in this lifetime or the next, however.”

They keep mentioning a ‘him.’ Kiyoomi frowns, a thought niggling at the back of his head like he’s forgotten something that he should know.

“Now, I must be going. Once again, congratulations on beating the game.” The man in the white coat turns and walks away, fading away like the wisps of a dream.

A lone tear trails down the figure’s cheek, and he sobs quietly, “Kiyoomi…”

_His name._ Kiyoomi tries to step forward, but there’s a tug somewhere behind his navel and then he’s falling away from that dream-like world, leaving the man and the crumbling castle behind.

This time, he wakes for real.

* * *

**1 Year Later**

* * *

Kiyoomi’s not sure what brings him to the bar down the street from his apartment, but he supposes he can indulge in a drink or two because it’s Friday night and he doesn’t have to go to work tomorrow. He breathes the cool autumn air as he shuffles along, mask firmly secured over his face.

It’s November 7, 2025. An entire year has passed since 《Sword Art Online》was cleared. Kiyoomi had worked hard to get his physical body back up to a decent condition after he had unexpectedly woken up in the hospital. He still doesn’t know how or _why_ he didn’t die after his avatar shattered, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. In all that time, he’s never tried to look for any of the other players that he befriended, too focused on himself and returning back to normalcy. He tries not to allow himself to think of the one person that he misses the most.

Kiyoomi absently adjusts the scarf around his neck, and walks on.

The bar is relatively classy, catering more to an older population rather than the hip night clubs of the younger folks, which suits Kiyoomi just fine because he knows it’ll have a quieter ambience and a cleaner interior. The bouncer scans his ID and lets him in with a cordial nod. Kiyoomi takes his first few steps towards the bar counter, slipping his mask off and pocketing it, when his eyes fall on someone slumped over there, an empty glass in front of him. And he does a double take, because—

_Atsumu_ is the absolute last person he’s expecting to see at the bar. He drinks in the sight of his friend-turned-lover greedily. His hair is still the same shade of creamy blond, although it’s shorter in the back than before. He’s in somewhat casual clothing, a denim jacket stretched tight over a corded frame, black slacks hugging his ass and thighs in a way that Kiyoomi appreciates. There’s a woman on the stool next to him who’s attempting to get his attention, but he doesn’t respond to her beyond a few grunts.

God, Kiyoomi has missed him. He’s missed him so much and now, he’s finally in reach again. He wonders if Atsumu misses him, too, because it’s Friday and it’s the one-year anniversary of SAO being cleared, the same day that Kiyoomi had supposedly died, and he’s sitting at a bar by himself. Well, this will be a good surprise for him.

The woman, frustrated by the lack of response, gets up and walks away with a huff. Kiyoomi takes the chance to slide into the seat on the other side of Atsumu. He tries to pitch his voice a little higher than usual, casually asking, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Atsumu sighs, not lifting his head from where he’s buried it into his arms. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Really? Not even one?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad. I thought we were getting married,” and Kiyoomi goes for the kill, dropping his voice back to normal, “right, _Atsumu?”_

The man goes rigid in his seat. Kiyoomi watches patiently with a smile as Atsumu slowly raises his head, blinking wide, disbelieving taupe eyes at him. He looks utterly shocked to see Kiyoomi there, his mouth opening and closing several times without a sound coming out. “…Kiyoomi?” he finally says, in a very small voice.

Kiyoomi laughs on the inside even as he quirks an eyebrow at him. “That was my name the last I checked, yes.”

Atsumu flounders. “But yer—ya ain’t dead?”

Kiyoomi reaches out to take Atsumu’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Atsumu’s breath hitches at the contact, a desperate hope swimming in his eyes. “Does it feel like I’m dead?” Kiyoomi asks softly.

A choked sob escapes the blonde, then he leans over and crushes Kiyoomi in an embrace, tears soaking into Kiyoomi’s jacket. For once, he doesn’t mind it.

“Omi, oh god, I really thought ya were dead, ya bastard! Ya shattered in my arms and I couldn’t—couldn’t _bear_ how lonely I felt afterwards, even after I woke up t’Samu an’ Rin fussin’ o’er me, I just wanted ya back an’ now yer _here—”_ Atsumu rambles, crying the whole time. He pulls back, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. “I’m not dreamin’, right? This ain’t a hallucination?”

“No, I’m here,” Kiyoomi confirms, putting one hand on Atsumu’s tear-streaked cheek. “So let me ask again: can I buy you a drink?”

Atsumu grins, a few more tears slipping out from the corners of his reddened eyes, cheeks flushed with happiness, and this is probably the prettiest that Kiyoomi’s ever seen him, “Of course!”

“And,” Kiyoomi continues, leaning in, “can I kiss you?” His hand slides down so one thumb is pressing lightly at the corner of Atsumu’s mouth, at plump pink lips that part in an O shape at Kiyoomi’s request.

“…D’ya really need t’ask?” Atsumu whispers, closing the distance.

Kiyoomi smells a faint trace of whiskey on his breath before they’re meeting again for the first time in a year, just as easily as they did before. And somehow, in their real bodies, in a drinking establishment in the middle of Tokyo, the kiss feels like coming home, two lonely souls following the North Star to find their way back to each other. Atsumu melts into the kiss, all the tension leaving his shoulders. Kiyoomi coaxes his mouth open, slipping a hint of tongue to swipe across his bottom lip, licking into the heat of him. The blonde lets out a soft sigh, pulling Kiyoomi closer. This close, Kiyoomi can smell him, clean sandalwood with a hint of something lemony, and it’s such an Atsumu smell that Kiyoomi can’t help falling deeper in love with him. Atsumu sucks on his tongue right then, and all coherent thought temporarily ceases to exist in his mind.

It doesn’t feel like they’ve had enough when they finally separate, smiling stupidly at each other. “Hey,” Atsumu says, eyes hooded, “instead of buyin’ me a drink, wanna take me home?”

“Bold words coming from you,” Kiyoomi teases, already slipping off the bar stool. “You sure you can handle it?”

Atsumu follows him. “I’m never lettin’ ya go again,” he promises, leaving the empty glass of whiskey on the bar. “Yer stuck with me forever, Omi.” Kiyoomi would like nothing more.

The bartender winks at them as they leave, and the bouncer smirks as they pass by. With their hands firmly clasped together, they step out into the night.

* * *

Atsumu grabs the front of Kiyoomi’s shirt and pulls him close once they’re inside Kiyoomi’s apartment, his eyes like twin pools of lust, but with a faint layer of disbelief still simmering behind his blown pupils. “Omi,” he rasps, backing Kiyoomi up against the door. “Please. Show me that yer real. Show me that this ain’t a dream.”

Kiyoomi’s face softens and he cups Atsumu’s cheek. “Of course. I’ll show you just how much you mean to me,” he says, leaning forward to capture Atsumu’s lips again. He kisses him gently, lightly scratching his nails over Atsumu’s scalp. Atsumu lets out a sigh and melts into his arms, warm and pliant. They spend several minutes like that, just kissing, feeling each other out again. Kiyoomi licks into him, one hand on the back of Atsumu’s head, the other slung around his lover’s waist.

“Omi,” Atsumu whimpers. Kiyoomi butterflies kisses all over his face, from his forehead to his cheeks to the tip of his pointy nose, over his thick brows and his chin, and back to his pouty lips. He takes little steps to start backing Atsumu away from the door, taking care not to bump into anything.

Atsumu’s hand squeezes at his hip, the man’s breath hitching and faltering as he encounters the solidity of a real body. Kiyoomi lets him; Atsumu needs this reassurance that Kiyoomi is here in the flesh, and he’s not about to suddenly fall into pieces and vanish on him again. This is reality.

He steers Atsumu towards the bedroom, still kissing him all the while. He briefly slides his whole front against Atsumu’s, rocking his half-hard cock against Atsumu’s leg. The other man moans, his mouth falling open with a gasping whine as Kiyoomi grinds against him. “O-Omi, please, I n-need ya—”

“Shh, baby. I’m right here,” Kiyoomi soothes him, migrating to the lean column of Atsumu’s neck so he can lick at the salty skin. He rubs his hips in slow circles against his lover, relishing in each breathless noise that leaves Atsumu’s lips. Atsumu tilts his head to the side, giving Kiyoomi more access to his throat. Kiyoomi doesn’t waste the opportunity to suck at the underside of Atsumu’s jaw, feeling his pulse jump beneath his tongue.

Atsumu groans a garbled version of his name as they finally make it to the bedroom, Kiyoomi boldly dropping his hand to crush the heel of his palm against the growing bulge in Atsumu’s slacks. He watches Atsumu’s face flush a beautiful shade of scarlet at his ministrations, whining for more as he wraps both of his arms around Kiyoomi.

They totter over to the bed. Kiyoomi pulls away briefly so he can remove the comforter, then he lightly shoves Atsumu so that he falls on to the bed back first. Kiyoomi’s hand hovers over the button holding Atsumu’s slacks up, searching the other’s eyes for any sign that he doesn’t actually want this.

But there’s nothing but lust swallowing up Atsumu’s irises, pupils fully blown.

“God, yer so pretty,” Atsumu says, his hands laying on the bed above his head. A few tears prickle the corners of his eyes as he sobs, “I’ve really missed ya, Omi…”

“I’m not dead,” Kiyoomi reminds him, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper so that he can shove his hand down past the band of Atsumu’s underwear. Atsumu chokes as Kiyoomi’s hand closes around something hot and heavy, lifting his hips so that he can wiggle out of his clothes. Kiyoomi teases him a bit, sliding his thumb over the slit of the bulbous head to produce a single bead of precum. “Can you feel me, Atsumu?”

“I do, I feel ya, now get inside o’ me already!” Atsumu shucks off his shirt and kicks his pants away. “Hurry, Omi, I _need ya—”_

Kiyoomi stifles a laugh at his lover’s impatience, but he’s equally eager to get on with it as Atsumu is. He reaches over to his bedside drawer and pulls out a tube of lubricant, only partly used from the nights when he had felt too lonely and kept imagining that Atsumu was there with him. And now, he finally is.

He takes off his own clothes, relishing in the hunger on Atsumu’s face as he slowly reveals himself, until he’s just as naked as his partner. He spares a moment to stroke over his own dick, sighing as it twitches in his hand.

“Omi—” Atsumu keens, beckoning to him.

Kiyoomi crawls on to the bed, looking over him tenderly as he kneels between spread thighs. He squirts lube on his fingers, rubbing them together to coat the digits, then nudges Atsumu’s knees apart so he can press his index finger against the pink rim. He sinks his finger inside Atsumu’s moist heat, listening as Atsumu inhales sharply at the intrusion. He leans over Atsumu to kiss him, distracting him from any pain he might be feeling. Atsumu clings on to him, devouring him with enthusiasm.

Kiyoomi adds a second finger, then a third. Atsumu cants his hips, little fragments of broken moans passing through his lips as Kiyoomi showers him in love and appreciation, his lips like a fire brand upon Atsumu’s sweaty skin. The wet sound of their bodies sliding together is the only sound in the room besides their heavy breathing.

When Atsumu is sufficiently stretched, Kiyoomi pulls his fingers out and reaches for a condom, but Atsumu stops him and shakes his head. “Wanna feel ya, Omi,” he croaks, blinking dazed eyes at him. “All o’ ya, inside me.”

It’s Kiyoomi’s turn to choke. He desperately drips lube over his own aching cock, coating every inch of himself with the slippery gel. He positions himself at Atsumu’s entrance, reaching one hand over his head to pin Atsumu’s wrists to the bed so that he can’t touch himself. If Atsumu wants to feel him inside, Kiyoomi’s going to do his damn best to make him come untouched, unraveled at the seams by his dick alone.

“Ready?” he murmurs, nosing at Atsumu’s hair.

“Please,” Atsumu whispers back.

Kiyoomi presses in slowly, groaning as Atsumu envelopes him inch by inch. Atsumu’s mouth falls open as the plump head pops inside, followed by the long, sinuous glide of Kiyoomi’s entire girth, until he’s completely sheathed all the way, his balls resting against the curve of Atsumu’s ass. Kiyoomi pauses, allowing Atsumu a moment to adjust. “Okay?” he says, kissing him on his cheeks.

“Mm…” Atsumu exhales. He flutters his eyelashes, wiggles his hips lightly. “Yeah.”

Kiyoomi pulls out, but doesn’t slam himself back inside at once. He takes his time, treating Atsumu like a precious thing that he never wants to let go.

Atsumu bites off a moan, then he starts trying to meet Kiyoomi’s languid thrusts with desperation edging him onwards. “Omi, _c’mon._ I’m not going to break. I want ya ta _fuck me.”_

“As you wish.” Kiyoomi hides a smile against warm golden skin, and then changes the tempo from slow and tender to something much more intense. He props himself up on one elbow, looking his partner straight in the eyes as he says, “I love you.” And he plows into Atsumu on the next thrust, reveling in the way that Atsumu arches his back, his eyes flying open wide as a scream leaves his throat. The second hard thrust knocks an unintelligible noise out of him, and then Kiyoomi starts fucking him in earnest.

_“Aah—_ Omi, please, h-harder!”

“You’re so tight, Atsumu…”

They kiss furiously. Atsumu throws his head back with a cry of ecstasy as Kiyoomi nails his prostate on the next sharp thrust, causing stars to burst out behind his eyelids. “Omi! Omi! Right there, I’m so—ah, _fuck!”_ he cries, hooking his ankles together behind Kiyoomi’s back to drive him in even deeper.

Kiyoomi inhales as Atsumu squeezes tightly around his cock. “You’re so good, so wet for me. Did you, _ngh,_ did you think of me when you woke up?” he breathes, slowing his thrusts so that he can grind circles against Atsumu’s sweet spot. “Did you imagine me doing this to you again someday?”

Atsumu shifts his hips, trying to get Kiyoomi to move faster, but at the same time whatever he’s doing now also feels so achingly good that he doesn’t want him to stop. “Thought ya were d-dead, but I still— _hah,_ please—s-still thought about ya like this—oh fuck, Omi, faster, _please—”_ he begs, wishing he could touch himself. Kiyoomi holds his wrists above his head, intent on making him come on his dick alone. Atsumu’s cock weeps against his stomach as Kiyoomi speeds up again, leaving smears of precum over his golden skin.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi moans, reveling in the way that Atsumu sucks him in. Watching his dick disappear into Atsumu’s hole, watching the way the pink rim flutters around his girth, watching Atsumu squeeze his eyes shut as Kiyoomi slams into him over and over again, these images are going to be seared into his memory forever. He looks so beautiful like this, utterly wrecked, the red flush of arousal all across his cheeks and spreading down as far as his heaving chest, sweat-damp locks of bleached hair crushed against the pillow.

"I can feel ya in me, so _deep,_ Omi, feels so good," Atsumu whimpers, his voice climbing a pitch higher. He wiggles his hips desperately, tearing up a little as Kiyoomi peppers tiny kisses over his face. "Ah… stay with me?"

“I’m here now.” Kiyoomi punctuates this statement with a hard snap of his hips, his balls smacking loudly against Atsumu’s ass as he buries himself to the hilt, near-mindless with the desire to be fully sheathed in that velvety heat. Every thrust drives a continuous stream of noises from Atsumu’s pretty little mouth, his lips kiss-bitten and red, drool dripping from the corners as the overwhelming pleasure momentarily overrides his higher brain functions. “I won’t disappear again.”

“Ya better not,” Atsumu gasps, his ankles loosening their hold around Kiyoomi’s waist, thick thighs falling open even more. “I’ll k-kill ya myself if ya do that t’me aga— _Omi!_ Ah, hah, oh please—again!”

Kiyoomi leans down, licking over Atsumu’s perky nipples, making the man convulse and shudder, crying out at the additional pleasure. Then he raises one of Atsumu’s legs with his other hand, mouthing along the soft skin of his thighs. The muscles aren’t as pronounced as his SAO avatar’s, since, he would guess, Atsumu has likely been going through physical rehabilitation like he has in the past year. But that just makes his thighs nice and soft and perfect to suck little bruises into. It creates a sense of dark satisfaction in him watching those purple marks bloom like flowers on his skin, screaming out that this man is _Kiyoomi’s,_ and no one else’s.

“Are you close, Atsumu?” he says, biting down on his lover’s skin as he thrusts hard enough to make the headboard rattle angrily against the wall.

“Yes! I’m close, really close, _aah—”_ Atsumu gives a full-body twitch as the next thrust jabs dead-on into his prostate, sending him over the edge at last. He tosses his head back, sobbing, “Kiyoomi!” as he comes, splattering himself and Kiyoomi’s chest with thick ribbons of cum, his back arching in a perfect bow.

Kiyoomi grunts as Atsumu’s orgasm causes him to clench down on his hard cock, practically strangling him with his tight heat. He manages a few more thrusts before he hits his own peak, emptying his load as deep inside of Atsumu as he can manage. Atsumu lets out a weak moan as he’s filled to the brim with hot cum. When Kiyoomi pulls out with a disgustingly loud squelch, some of it even leaks out of Atsumu’s hole and drips on to the bedsheets underneath them.

They catch their breath in silence for a moment. Then Atsumu chuckles, “That was way better than in the game.”

Kiyoomi agrees. It’s not like the sex they had while trapped in SAO was _bad,_ per se, but the sensations, emotions, and all the little quirks and limitations of their physical bodies were just better in real life. He seeks out Atsumu’s lips, swallowing the quiet sigh that escapes him as they kiss leisurely, no longer in a hurry.

Atsumu looks up at him with so much love that Kiyoomi wonders how he ever got so lucky, meeting someone like him at a time when Kiyoomi had been at his lowest. He’s sure that he looks equally besotted as he rests his forehead against Atsumu’s, just feeling him, and making sure that Atsumu can feel him in return. They are here now, together, in real life. The game was beaten and they both came out of the experience alive, even though Kiyoomi had been utterly convinced that he wouldn’t, especially after taking that last blow for Atsumu that had dropped his HP down to zero. But they did, and whether by coincidence or fate, their paths have intertwined once again.

He props himself up on his elbows. “Come on, let’s go take a shower. I feel gross,” Kiyoomi says, making a face at the feeling of cum drying on his chest.

Atsumu makes a noise of assent. When he stands up to follow Kiyoomi to the bathroom, he cringes as cum slides out of his hole and down his legs. “Okay, yeah, this is disgustin’.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if you let me use a condom like I said earlier.”

Atsumu pouts, crossing his arms. “Can ya blame me? I missed ya! I wanted to feel _all_ of ya inside me and the condom woulda just gotten in the way!” he whines. Kiyoomi flushes, pleased. He pulls Atsumu close to him and kisses the side of his head.

"I missed you, too," he says, smiling. Atsumu beams.

When they're standing in the shower together, Kiyoomi feels Atsumu rest his arms around his waist, fingers interlocking over Kiyoomi's stomach. Atsumu presses himself against Kiyoomi's back, wet skin sliding together smoothly, and he buries his face against the curve of Kiyoomi's shoulder.

"I love ya, Omi," Atsumu whispers against his skin. "Please don't ever leave me again."

Kiyoomi puts his hands over Atsumu's, tilting his head back to catch the shower spray.

"I won't, I promise. And—" he turns to press a kiss to Atsumu's wet hair, "I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


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